


Plausible Deniability

by mypetelephant



Category: Avatar: Legend of Korra
Genre: Bar Room Brawl, Equalist Asami Sato, F/F, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-29
Updated: 2015-09-29
Packaged: 2018-04-23 22:49:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,110
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4895326
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mypetelephant/pseuds/mypetelephant
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Asami always hated this bar. But tonight.... Well, tonight is different.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Plausible Deniability

**Author's Note:**

> It's been more than a year since I've posted any fic. I've wanted to write a Korrasami something for months now, but that's only produced a few scattered outlines that I don't feel like turning into a story and, well, this piece of smut. Consider it an Equalist!Asami story where the Avatar's identity is unknown, but only if you're really concerned with plot. Otherwise, just consider it an excuse to read about Asami and Korra getting it on in a bathroom.

Asami always hated this bar, but it was the easiest way to make sure none of her colleagues would catch her on a night out. The men she worked with preferred a different sort of place: classy enough to appease their girlfriends, but cheap enough that their wives wouldn't catch them. They would never show their faces in a place where boots crunched over peanut shells on the ground, and bar fights meant that you regularly had to keep your glass in hand lest someone be thrown on it.

She sipped her beer, the thin, soapy taste reminding her of just why she hated this place so much. The downside of seediness was a lack of good scotch. She scanned the bar, trying to figure out whether there were any good candidates for the night. She'd conducted three successful raids that week, and even if she still wasn't any closer to finding the Avatar's identity, she would be damned if she didn't give herself a proper reward. 

One man approached her, willing to brave her steely demeanor. She smiled at him as he slid into the space next to her. Muscular arms with a ring of wire tattooed around the bicep. Well, this would most likely go horribly, but Asami was inclined to give anyone with that kind of physique a second chance.

"Did it hurt? When you fell from heaven?" 

Ah, to watch second chances be squandered so thoroughly. 

The man didn't register her look of disgust though. He asked the bartender for two bears, but before he could hand Asami hers, another person's hands reached in to grab the beer. Asami turned to see a woman with short dark hair and startling blue eyes smiling at her.

"Sorry, I have a fight I need to get into, and if I don't have a beer right now, I will definitely lose." 

In the pause after the strange woman's words, both Asami and the poor chump trying to hit on her both seemed capable of only blinking. The woman chugged the beer in three seconds, then used her sleeve to wipe her mouth.

"Thanks," she said to Asami. "If I survive, I'll make sure to buy you a replacement." She winked, and then turned back into the crowd.

On the other side of the room, a large man was glaring at the stranger. He looked like he was made of brick decorated with tattered fabric. His fist clenched and unclenched as the woman took her time walking back. Asami had been in many fights against larger opponents before, and the strange woman seemed more than capable of walking away from a scrape, but she wasn't sure that this was really going to be a fair match. Asami reached for her stun gun, but the stranger didn't seem to share her concerns. 

More importantly, Asami could see that the man was enraged by the woman's self-assured manner. His fists tightened until the veins stood pronounced all the way up his arm.

"Get the fuck back here," he shouted at the woman. "No one gets away with calling me an idiot."

The stranger paused, and Asami leaned forward to hear her response. But there was none. Instead, the woman jumped on a table and sprinting across it. She seemed to have an almost supernatural ability to avoid the cups and plates beneath her feet as she moved in the direction of her opponent. Everyone in the bar was watching her, even the lumbering man who had tried so inelegantly to buy Asami a drink. 

"She's dead," he said to no one in particular. "He's going to smash her into a wall."

Asami had to agree. The man the woman was running towards had already lowered himself, ready for whatever blow she threw his way. Trying to hit him was going to be like running up against a gigantic loaded spring. As the woman got closer and closer to her target, Asami's grip tightened around her glass. Then, at the second before the woman was set to leap into the man, she instead launched herself above him, somersaulting onto the table behind him.

The man turned around to see her, only to be greeted with a punch to his face. A knot unclenched in Asami's stomach as she breathed a sigh of relief. It was short-lived though, as punches and kicks began to fly between the woman and the man. It was hard to tell who had the upper hand. One second, the woman would be raining a series of kicks into the belly of her opponent. Then in the next second, he would be picking her up and throwing her across a table. The whole bar was full of screams as people took sides and placed bets on the outcome. Despite the strong offense the woman was putting up, the majority opinion was still that she would be defeated in a matter of minutes. 

And yet, as the fight went on, Asami noticed things that the people in the bar didn't seem to. This was, of course, the whole point of the training she had been through since she was five. She could see that the man was putting in more and more effort with each round of hits. Meanwhile, the woman seemed to be going at a constant pace, making only small adjustments to her stance so she could draw in her larger opponent and begin to chip away at his size advantage. The crowd kept urging the man to throw her, thrilled--of course--by the spectacle. But they didn't seem to realize that the woman had no issues with this. Being thrown hurt her, and she would wince with pain each time she hit a wall or a table. But she could feel what Asami could see: the man was getting tired trying to show off to his friends. And with each time he threw her, her punches and kicks landed harder until finally, he was barely able to toss her. The final punch seemed almost anti-climatic as he dropped to the ground, his eyes out of focus. 

Miraculous silence filled the bar as everyone contemplated the woman. She was panting heavily, her skin layered with a thin sheen of sweat.

Well, maybe this night wouldn't be a dud after all.

The woman was patiently entertaining the verbal reenactment of her own triumph from a group of men at her table when Asami came up to her, two beers in hand.

"I thought I was the one who owed you a beer," the woman said when Asami handed her one of the glasses. 

"After that show, I think we all owe you one." Asami settled down across from the woman, ignoring the men around them. "What did you do to piss him off?"

"It's not clear. The guys behind me think it's because I called him a dumbfuck turtleduck with shit for brains and a limp dick."

"Well, that does sound pretty serious."

"But in my defense, he did slap my ass."

Asami smiled. "The last time someone slapped my ass in a bar, I broke his arm in seven places."

The woman laughed, and Asami could feel that sound relax her own muscles. "Now that's a story I want to hear about."

Fifteen minutes later, Asami's back was pressed against the bathroom wall as the woman's lips crashed onto hers. There was a taste of liquor hanging between them that got diluted as their kiss deepened. The woman was unbuttoning Asami's shirt, and they both reluctantly broke contact to let Asami drag the woman's tank top over her head. 

The only feeling Asami could process was the woman's body against her own. She felt a warm thigh against her crotch, and she hooked a leg around the woman's calf to bring her in tighter. She let out a moan as the woman began to drag her lips and tongue down Asami's neck, then over the swell of her breast and over the cup of her bra so that she could bite through the black lace covering Asami's nipple. The woman kept going further, kneeling onto the ground as she pushed down Asami's underwear and lifted her skirt.

The woman's lips were on her thighs, taking far too long to reach the destination Asami so dearly hoped they had in mind. She wove her hands through the woman's hair with one hand as she grabbed on to whatever she could with the other.

"Please," she begged, as the woman continued to tease her, tracing Asami's hip with her tongue as her fingers began to lightly stroke her clitoris. Asami's breaths were getting short as she felt her face flush. She watched as the woman lowered herself again, pressing her cheek against Asami's thigh as she looked back up. Their eyes met, and Asami realized again how much more naked she was right now. If the woman were to leave right now, Asami would be left a sweaty, half-naked, fully arounsed mess, and that thought was amazing.

A warmth filled her as the woman's tongue began to trace patterns along her folds. She started slow, and it seemed as if she was gauging Asami's reactions. Luckily, Asami was more than happy to give her one. Her fingers tightened in the woman's hair, feeling course waves in her grasp as she wordlessly directed the woman to continue. Through the haze of beer and arousal, she watched the muscle in the woman's shoulders shift as she moved. The woman's hips were pushed back, and Asami watched appreciatively as they rocked slowly with each movement against Asami's clit. Her legs felt shakey, and if it weren't for the wall supporting, Asami knew she would have collapsed long before. The woman's tongue began to move faster as it stroked deeper inside Asami, and when the woman seemed to find the spot that made Asami moan loudest, she worked diligently on it. 

Asami felt the tension build up inside of her, working across her hips until it reached her center. She buckled, just barely managing to stay upright as the woman applied her finishing strokes. This time, when the woman looked up at her, she was smiling. Her mouth was slick, and Asami quickly pulled her back up before spinning around so that the woman's front was against the wall. She pushed the hair along the woman's neck aside, then worked the exposed skin with tongue, teeth, and lips as the salty taste of the woman's skin filled her mouth. 

She was impatient, wanting nothing more than to hear what the woman sounded like when she came. She pushed the She let one hand descend until it was beneath the band of the woman's pants. She could feel just how wet the woman already was, and as she began to stroke with one finger, the woman's head bucked back with a gasp. Asami pulled the woman's chin towards her, lightly grazing her cheeks and then lips with a soft kiss.

It was the woman's turn to beg, and Asami was more than happy to acquiesce. She watched as the woman's closed her eyes and seemed to sink into the feeling of Asami's fingers inside of her, grinding her hips into Asami as she tried to increase the pace. They both moved faster and faster until the speed was just too much for the woman, and the tension in her body lessoned so Asami could dictate the entire pace. As Asami's fingers began to work faster, the woman's breaths became shallower and shallower, her moans reaching the high pitch that you only reach when the line between pleasure and pain becomes almost invisible. Asami caught her lips in a kiss again, a few seconds before the woman's hips bucked tellingly against her. They stayed like that for several seconds, each trying to catch their breath while also not wanting to let go. 

Finally, Asami stepped back. The woman was panting against the wall. When she turned around, her eyes were bright, and her whole outfit was a mess. It took them several minutes to fully recover and get their clothes back on. When they finally left the bathroom, Asami found herself asking hopefully, "Do you come here often?"

The woman looked back. "First time. Kind of hate it," she said. Then she smiled knowingly at Asami. "But I could be convinced to come back tomorrow."

It was only later, after Asami had returned home and stared at the ceiling, her body still humming with the memory of the woman's touch, that she realized they had never learned each other's names.

She'd make sure to ask tomorrow.


End file.
